There is always hope
by smaugs-mommy
Summary: A few years after Frodo’s departure, Pippin tries to write a letter for his dear cousin's birthday. I know I am a bit late gI find the new rating system highly confusing, but K will do. I hope.


Summary: A few years after Frodo's departure, Pippin tries to write a letter.

AN: No slash, and no plot, either :p.

Rated: PG would certainly do it, am making this PG 13 just to be sure.

There is always hope

When I was five you locked me in my father's wardrobe and made me swear never to tell what you and Pearl had been doing behind the huge holly bush. I had no idea what exactly you had been doing, and thus could not promise anything. You had me stay in there the entire afternoon.

Three years later you knocked me out with a broom stick when you tried to teach me how to defend myself against bullies who always target the smallest hobbit (Fortunately, Boromir was a better teacher than you).

Seven years later I got myself into serious trouble, almost entirely without yours or Merry's help.

With the two of you being my best friends, and me always wanting to be like you, I grew up to be a very … well …mature child.

The average young hobbit lad will steal his first mushrooms at the age of twenty-one. Unless he is named Frodo Baggins, of course.

I, however, will tell my children that I was fifteen when I first explored Farmer Maggot's fields.

Luckily, while Farmer Maggot went on about how he would 'whip me raw', you were busy in the nearby strawberry fields – the tips of your fingers were still red from their juice when you came running to rescue me. If I remember correctly, you told Maggot that you had made me do it, had forced me to steal each single one of the mushrooms in my pockets by threatening to hurt my sisters.

Dear cousin! We had to learn that there are threatening hobbits after all, but certainly you are not one of them; if there is somebody who would never hurt my sisters, it is you, even though Pimpernel and Pervinca always enjoyed getting you into embarrassing situations.

Still, Farmer Maggot had seen you in his fields once too often and was obviously convinced that, considering you were stealing strawberries at the ripe age of thirty-seven, he could trust you to terrorize me.

I daresay your poor back never looked the same anymore when Maggot was done with you!

On your next birthday I helped you get drunk, which was fun. I was - and still am - convinced to have done you great favour, since this certain birthday led to you reuniting with Pearl, at least for a while.

So. Yes. Well. What am I writing this letter for?

Because in a few minutes it will be your birthday. And because I want to tell you how much I miss you, still miss you. I don't think I will ever stop missing you.

For you, there had been many long and certainly comparatively peaceful years before I was born.

But for me, there never was a time without you.

As you grew up your visits to Great Smials became increasingly rare, but still I knew you were there, however at a distance. I knew that if I was in danger, you would come running, just as you had done that day when you saved me from Farmer Maggot.

I loved you from the start, Frodo.

At times I would be annoyed, because you were perfect at almost everything while I was clumsy, and a real baby at times, and never managed to get anything done…and sometimes I just could not stand listening to my sister going on about the cute, fuzzy fur on your feet, your adorable belly-button, your firm cheeks (and no, she did not mean those in the face), your leaf-shaped ears, soft voice and soulful eyes. Once when she had another lass visiting her, I had to endure long hours of endless descriptions of your oh-so-sweet toes.

Let me be honest.

Yes, your belly-button is rather adorable, and well, although I can't see myself sucking on them: you have cute toes. Don't get me wrong, Frodo. I have got a lass of my own now, her name is Diamond, and her eyes sparkle like that, too.

It it just that I am not interested in your navel or toes at all.

One of the first tasks Gandalf entrusted me with after I healed from being squashed by a troll was bathing you during your own recovery. It was an odd thing to do.

As far as I could remember, it had been you who had cared for me when I was ill and feverish as a child.

It had been you who had pulled me out of freezing cold Brandywine after my demonstration of my then non-existent swimming skills.

On one dark evening, somewhere between Weathertop and Rivendell, you sang quietly until I fell asleep, although you already – or still – were in terrible pain; I could see it in your face.

And now I saw you at Cormallen, and you looked so small and fragile, and barely recognisable.

Oh.

Oh I am sorry, Frodo.

I did not want to write this. I'm half-expecting to turn into something green and slimy now, and only half-calmed by the fact that Gandalf has left this world for good, just like you.

Once I overheard you worrying about having destroyed the child in me by allowing me to follow you when we set out for the Quest.

Please!

I would have come with you anyway, and you know that. And as you see, some things have not changed; the child in me is still alive and makes me write things I promised to keep secret.

I am sorry.

This is supposed to be your birthday letter.

No more talking about your belly-button.

It's hard, you know. Writing a letter to someone who will never read it. I don't even know whether you are still alive or not. Sam is so sure that he will see you again. He never talks about it, but we all know how hopeful he is.

Merry and I will never sail into the West, though, and it is likely that we will never see you again.

Does time matter where you have gone?

It is now your fifty-fifth birthday, and Bilbo's 133rd!

I wish you a very happy birthday, Frodo.

If there is something we have learned on our journey, then it is that there is always hope. It is my hope to see you again and then I will give you your birthday greetings personally. There will be no need for these childish letters.

I will hug you and tickle you until you squeak.

I will bring Pearl with me, and Merry.

May the hair on your toes never grow thin.

Pip.


End file.
